“Nay, my child, but, according to his Majesty’s book, she has all the signs of a witch in her.”
“Indeed, father?”
“Yes, child, I have studied it all well, and can show you a dozen points wherein she answers to a witch. Anne, my child, she shall be seized and examined.”
“I don’t think I would, father. Such women are sure to say more than is quite true, and spit their venom at random. Better let her rest in peace.”
“Nay, child, she shall be examined, and, if she says too much, she shall be gagged. I am not a man to be trifled with by a known and practised witch.”
Next day Mother Goodhugh returned to her cottage from one of her many absences in the forest, full of bitterness against Mistress Anne.
“Does she think she be going to play with me?” muttered the old woman. “Not she. I be not frightened of her threats now. Let her speak if she dares. I could tell strange tales against her if I liked, and I’ll be paid. One hundred golden pounds she shall give me, or she shall not marry him; nay, that she shall not. Mother Goodhugh is stronger than they think.” She chuckled, as she walked sharply up and down the little room, shaking her stick and then thumping the end upon the floor. “Nice tales could I tell. Mistress Anne Beckley would look well as my companion, and ha-ha-ha! ho-ho-ho! What would the fine, gay, gallant Sir Mark say to his sweet if he knew of the tricks and plans she had carried out. There would be an end to the wedding, and she dare not speak. What do you want here?”
“I came to see thee, Mother Goodhugh,” said the founder, who had just raised the latch, and stood in the doorway.
“To see me,” cried the old woman, fiercely. “What! hast come to be cursed again? But no, no, no; go away, man, go away, away,” she said hurriedly, as she fell a trembling. “I don’t want thee here.”
“Mother Goodhugh,” said the founder, sadly, “thou hast always looked upon me as an enemy.”